


Chocolate Cookies and Cooking Critique

by Lunarlooroo



Series: A Sweet Life [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Baker!Yuuri, Barista!Phichit, Fluff, Hell Pellet, Hopeless!Viktor, M/M, Oblivious!Yuuri, bad baking attempts, okay more like in denial!Yuuri, that will be explained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 18:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10622466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarlooroo/pseuds/Lunarlooroo
Summary: Yuuri's new neighbour is beautiful, kind, friendly, affectionate and totally out of his league. However, he is pretty bad at baking.Or: Viktor keeps trying to woo Yuuri with cookies, but Yuuri thinks Viktor just wants the professional opinion of a baker.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first YOI fic! Been toying with this for a while, so hope you like it! Planning a sequel from Viktor's POV.

The alarm blaring caused Yuuri to jerk awake, rolling out of his tiny single bed to hit the unforgiving floor. He groaned, making a blind grab for his phone on the nightstand and switching the obnoxious Nyan cat tune off. Damnit, Phichit must have changed it again. He _knew_ Yuuri hated it. Granted, it was precisely what made it such an effective alarm, but mornings made him that much more uncharitable.

Yuuri grumbled under his breath as he got up to get ready for the day. It was a rare occasion that he could take his time, since he usually slept through his first and second alarms. After his trip to the bathroom, he shuffled to the kitchen blearily to grab some leftover muffins for breakfast. Coupled with that was a steaming mug of _sencha_ that his mom had sent over. None of those ridiculous knock-offs from sketchy ‘Japanese’ corner-stores. The familiar soothing scent woke him enough that he no longer looked like something that had stepped out of a Walking Dead movie.

He was finally ready to face the day. Now, don’t get him wrong; Yuuri loved his job. He just _hated_ mornings. He didn’t know how early birds could exist without hating themselves and their life choices. For him, ‘morning people’ was an oxymoron. Unfortunately, his best friend and co-worker Phichit Chulanont was one of those incomprehensible people.

After grabbing his bag (which he conscientiously packed every night to prevent any hazy morning accidents – Phichit never let him live down the booty shorts episode) from the table, he headed out for work. Maybe he would even be earlier than Phichit for once. Locking the door, he turned to find the most exquisite man on earth in the hallway.

Strike that, he meant The Most Exquisite Man on EarthTM.

Yuuri dropped his keys.

(Oh my _god_ , bad Yuuri!)

Mr Exquisite – because, yes, that’s what he would be calling him now – immediately bent over to pick them up which kicked Yuuri into action because he couldn’t let the man do that for him. Which, in hindsight, was not the best idea he had had this morning in this tiny hallway.

They knocked their heads against each other, causing both of them to flinch backwards. Yuuri didn’t even register the pain, watching in horror as the other man winced. Oh god, he had just caused pain to that beautiful man. He was sure that was a sin somewhere. He wished the ground would just swallow him up. Right now.

In his dazed state, he completely missed the stranger’s recovery and subsequent retrieval of his keys from the floor. It was the sound of metallic jingling that startled him out of his wide-eyed stare.

“Your keys?”

Oh his _voice_. He had not been prepared for that accent so early in the morning. He reached out for them, flushing when their hands touched. “T-thanks.” _Real smooth, Katsuki Yuuri. And you wonder why you’re a 23-year-old virgin._

As if that had not been enough, the man beamed at him brightly, somehow getting his lips to contort into an endearing heart-shape. “You’re very welcome! Glad to meet my new neighbour so soon.”

_Wait, what?_ Yuuri blinked rapidly, looking between the man and the door next to his. Sure enough, the ‘for rent/sale’ sign had been taken down. Ever since his ex-neighbour had married and moved out a year ago, the apartment next-door had been vacant. Yuuri had stopped checking the sign months ago, which probably explained why he hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t there anymore.

The man – his _neighbour_ – thrust a hand out eagerly. “I’m Viktor, Viktor Nikiforov. I hope we’ll get to know each other _very well_.”

Yuuri honest-to-goodness squeaked at the suggestive comment, hesitantly returning the handshake. “I-I’m Katsuki Yuuri, err, Yuuri Katsuki I suppose. You can call me Yuuri. I mean, if you prefer.” _You can call me whatever you want_ , Yuuri didn’t say.

“Yuuuuri,” Mr Exquisite- _Viktor_ intoned lowly, drawing out his name. It sent a shiver down his spine. The man leaned closer, still grasping his hand gently.

Backed against the wall, Yuuri panicked and slid away quickly. “N-nice meeting you! Gottagobye!” He avoided Viktor’s – _very_ blue, _very_ gorgeous – eyes as he made a quick getaway.

Hysterically, he thought, _I guess Phichit will be earlier than me after all._

~~~

Yuuri yanked the backdoor open and rushed in, slamming it shut as he leaned against it, panting. Once he started running, he had somehow done it all the way to his workplace. Which happened to be a bakery-cum-café he co-owned with Phichit. Staring listlessly at the gleaming kitchen counters, he replayed that earlier encounter with his new neighbour in his head.

“Ugh,” he groaned loudly, hiding his burning face in his hands. “Way to go, Yuuri.”

So caught up in his self-loathing, he didn’t hear the cheery whistling or doorknob turning. A grunt, then a forceful shove forced the door open. The door which he had been leaning against. Waving his hands in the air comically, he managed to steady himself without face-planting on the hard floor. Barely.

“Yuuri? Oops, sorry! What were you doing blocking the door?”

He turned around, giving his best friend a look of annoyance. Sighing, he shook his head and went to wash his hands. “Nothing, nothing. Just thinking about something.”

Phichit made a dubious sound, which conveyed his _yeah right_. “I know that face, Katsuki. That’s your I-messed-up-in-my-usual-awkward-turtle-way-again face. What happened?”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Yuuri hedged, occupying himself with the batter he had started mixing for fresh blueberry muffins.

“Pshh, we still have time, what with you being so early today. Now spill.” The Thai leaned his elbows on one of the clean counters, giving Yuuri his no-nonsense look.

“It’s really nothing! I just embarrassed myself in front of my new neighbour is all,” he mumbled sullenly.

Yuuri cringed when nothing but a thoughtful silence met his answer. He could practically hear the clogs turning in Phichit’s mind, dissecting his vague statement and piecing it together so that the regular human could understand. They had been best friends for five years, after all, and living together in dorms for three of them while they had still been studying.

“Let me guess,” Phichit said slyly, “the man was a total hunk, and you were a hot mess.”

Sighing, Yuuri channelled his frustration into stirring his batter. “An _absolute_ mess,” he corrected, “not hot. And the man is The Most Exquisite Man in the Universe and Beyond TM. Could we not talk about this? You still have tables to wipe and your own prep to do before flipping the sign in,” he checked the clock, “an hour.”

“Fine.” He could hear the younger man’s pout. “But don’t think I’ll be letting this go. I need details, Yuuri, details!”

Yuuri stared down at his gooey mix of butter, flour, eggs and blueberries. That was like how he was now – a sticky mess. But at least this would be delicious. He didn’t have that luxury.

The rest of the morning was busy enough that it passed with no more mention of The Incident, save for a few pointed glances from his friend when he could spare attention from whipping up his caffeine-fuelled creations. As if Yuuri could forget that he would be forced to recount every moment in excruciating detail during their lunch break.

It was little after three when they could finally get a breather and sit to eat. The lunch crowd had been killer today, which was actually a good thing, he supposed. Phichit’s avid Instagramming had to be good for something. At least they didn’t have to pay for any advertising.

Yuuri set their food down on the table, which was Phad Thai today. His friend moaned in delight at the heavenly smell and wolfed it down quickly, with himself not far behind.

“Thanks, Yuuri, great as always. Man, you cook better than my mom. Don’t tell her that though.”

He shook his head in amusement, standing to bring the dishes to the sink to wash. A hand reached out and grabbed him.

“Nuh uh, don’t think I was distracted by the Phad Thai.” Cursing silently at his failed plan, Yuuri sat back down. “Now, tell me what happened.”

He resigned himself to his fate and told him everything. It was best to just give in where Phichit was involved. The man _knew_ things, things Yuuri couldn’t afford spread to the whole world – or Phichit’s Instragram followers, which was pretty much the same thing.

“And he has an _accent_ Phichit, I think it’s Russian. And blue eyes, the bluest you’ll ever find. Did I mention his hair? It’s silver, honest-to-god _silver._ Not even old man silver, it’s like moonshine and starlight.”

“I thought you went to culinary school, Yuuri, not poetry,” Phichit teased, mock-swooning.

Flustered, he exclaimed, “I’m serious! How does someone even have such a colour naturally? Even his eyebrows were silver, so either it’s natural or he’s dedicated.”

“You were with the man for two minutes, tops, and you noticed what colour his eyebrows were?” Yuuri just gave Phichit a nonplussed expression. His friend shook his head. “You’ve got it baaaad.”

Yuuri threw a napkin at him.

“Okay, okay! So what do you want to do?”

Yuuri pinched his brows together cutely. “Not be a stuttering mess in front of him? I’d like to at least seem like a functional human being.”

“And,” Phichit said patiently, “what else?” Yuuri had a blank look on his face. “I mean, do you want date him, marry him, just have a torrid one-nighter?”

Yuuri jerked backwards, holding his hands outs in large cross in front of him. “No, no, no! He’s- He can be my- I just want him- Viktor- Just Viktor!” He nodded rapidly, grasping at the train of thought. “Yeah, he’s just Viktor!”

Phichit smirked in satisfaction. “Got it. Just your Viktor. I can work with that.”

Slamming his forehead into the table, Yuuri wished for the ground to swallow him up for the second time that day. It wouldn’t be the last.

~~~

Yuuri was both disappointed and relieved to not see Viktor for the next few days. A tiny part of him, the paranoid part (oh, who was he kidding, it was much more than a tiny part), fretted that the man had decided to move again after meeting him. Which was ridiculous. Right?

He only bumped into him again that Saturday, after a hectic day at the café. Or more accurately, he was knocked over by a hulking fluffy mass which then led to their second meeting.

There he was, just trudging home feeling sticky and still smelling like dessert ingredients when suddenly he was falling backwards and hitting the ground with a loud thud. Something wet and soft was leaving moist stripes all over his face and neck. He opened his eyes to find his vision obscured by brown fur.

“No, Makkachin, get off him!” a familiar voice commanded.

Yuuri heaved a large sigh when the heavy mass was lifted off his chest. Sitting up, he adjusted his glasses and looked for his assailant. The cutest brown poodle sat in front of him, wagging its tail eagerly. Laughing, he leaned forward to run his fingers through its fur and scratched its ear. The dog gave an exuberant bark and nuzzled at him eagerly, sniffing.

Ahh, it must have smelt the leftover pastries that he was bringing home. Nonetheless, Yuuri continued petting and cooing at the dog.

A resounding ‘click’ brought him back from doggy heaven. “Aww, that is absolutely adorable!”

Stiffening, he drew back and slowly looked up. Viktor Nikiforov. Pointing his phone camera at him. He shot to his feet. “V-viktor! S-sorry, I should have asked before playing with your dog. Do you mind? Your poodle is beautiful which is fitting, I mean-!”

Viktor chuckled and waved off his rambling. “Don’t worry about it. We should be the ones apologising. Did you hurt yourself when Makka – that’s Makkachin – bowled you over?” He stepped closer, putting his hands on either side of Yuuri’s face to tilt this way and that, as if looking for any injuries.

Blood rushed to his cheeks and his arms automatically shot out to push the man away. _Too close!_ he shouted mentally. _His eyes have flecks of green in them_ , also-him whispered.

_Shut up, Yuuri, and talk before he thinks you’ve lost your voice! And wits._

“Fine. You’re- I mean, _I’m,_ yes, I’m fine.” _Keep this up and he’ll think you have a speech disorder._

To his shock, Viktor roved his eyes up and down his body, lingering on his thighs, and smirked. “You definitely are.”

Yuuri quickly averted his eyes, focussing on Makkachin. _Is he flir- No, of course not! Don’t be an idiot._ “Are you headed back home?” he blurted. “Your home,” he added uselessly, as if there was another home he was going to.  Then he looked at the way Makkachin was bouncing in excitement and almost facepalmed. Right, it was obvious they were out on a walk. And even if they weren’t it wasn’t like Viktor would want to go back with him.

“Yup!” Viktor said happily, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Let’s go together!” He put a hand on Yuuri’s back, nudging him forwards.

“Weren’t you on a walk with Makkachin?” Yuuri asked, because he was actually an idiot.

 

“Oh, we’re done already. Makka’s all tired out.” Yuuri glanced at the hyper-looking dog dubiously, but, hey, it was Viktor’s dog. “You know,” Viktor continued, turning to shoot a beaming smile at him, “Makkachin seems to really like you, and this is only your first meeting!”

Yuuri opened his mouth to say that it was probably because of the pastries in his bag-

“Well, I always say that people liked by dogs – my Makka especially – are great people!”

-and closed it again. He gave a weak chuckle. “T-thanks.”

“So Yuuri, how long have you stayed here? Where are you from? What do you do? What’s your type? Do you have a lover?” With each question, the hand on his back seemed to snake more around his waist, until it practically pulled him against Viktor’s side.

The barrage of questions flustered him, especially the last two. “I moved here from Hasetsu, Japan, six years ago for school.  I’ve been staying in the area since then, but only moved to my current apartment two years ago.” To dodge the other questions, he asked, “So where are you from?”

Viktor’s brows seemed to furrow slightly before smoothing out. “I’m from St Petersburg, Russia! I moved here for a change of pace. The environment here is so nice! Best of all, I got to meet you here!” He smiled that heart-shaped smile of his, which shot straight through Yuuri. “I have a great idea! Why don’t you show me around the city?” He clapped his hands in delight. “You’ve been here for several years, I bet you know all the good places to go to! In return, I’ll pay for our meals.” He looked down at him with a wide-eyed look. “Won’t you do it? I want to know everything about this place and you!”

By this point, they had already reached their respective apartment doors. Seeing the pleading expression on Viktor’s face, Yuuri couldn’t find it in himself to say no. “…Sure, Viktor. I’d be glad to help.”

“Thanks Yuuri!” The Russian threw his arms around him, hugging tightly.

That was the only problem. Yuuri bit his lip worriedly. He didn’t think his heart could handle the work-out Viktor was giving it.

Viktor let go slightly, but was still much closer than was appropriate. “Sorry again for Makkachin knocking you down!” He then bent lower and whispered into his ear, “Though I can’t say I blame him for wanting to jump you.” With that, he stepped back and chirped, “See you tomorrow!” before walking through his door and shutting it.

Yuuri threw his own apartment door open and ran in. Sliding to the floor in a dead heap, he tried to not hyperventilate.

~~~

Waving goodbye to Viktor from his doorstep, Yuuri dazedly contemplated the state of his life at the moment. In the past two months since the Russian had moved in, Yuuri had brought him around the city on numerous outings during his off days. They even ate dinner together most days. Sometimes out, sometimes Yuuri cooked. Somehow, Viktor was always free whenever Yuuri was. He was hesitant to ask the other man what he did for a living, if he was actually doing anything at all. In fact, he didn’t actually remember talking about their jobs during their time together (though Viktor could probably guess from all the leftovers he brought home from the café).

They talked about pretty much everything else, though. From what his favourite colours were to the kinds of books he read, Viktor seemed interested to know all these little facts about him. For the life of him, Yuuri couldn’t figure out why. He wasn’t very interesting. He was just your painfully shy dime-a-dozen baker.

Viktor, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Sociable, charming, witty and, of course, utterly gorgeous. He was the kind of person everyone wanted to be friends (or more) with. It truly baffled Yuuri why this man wanted to spend time with _him_ , of all people.

It didn’t help that Viktor was inordinately fond of skinship. He didn’t know if it was a Russian thing or what, but the other man was somehow always touching him. A hand on the small of his back, an arm across his shoulder, hooking their elbows together. Viktor couldn’t seem to stop. It kind of made Yuuri uncomfortable, in a my-heart-is-going-doki-doki-omg-can-he-tell? kind of way. Yeah, his life was one of those shoujo mangas that Mari-nee would never admit to reading. Except he wasn’t the ditzy but beautiful girl to Viktor’s hot senpai.

Yuuri had to constantly remind himself not to get carried away by Viktor’s incessant need to hang all over him. He was just being friendly. Like that cheek caress he had given Yuuri before going to his own door? A thanks for showing him the nearby ice rink.

Or that hug a few days ago for bringing him to that izakaya down the block that sold quite authentic Japanese food.

Or that kiss on his knuckles when Yuuri brought him around the shopping district.

Yeah.

~~~

“NO, Yuuri,” Phichit exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “ _Not_ friendly. Friends don’t kiss each other as thanks. Or at least, friends who just met each other a few months ago.”

“It was just on the cheek, not an actual kiss,” Yuuri mumbled.

“It was literally a hairsbreadth from your lips, Yuuri,” Phichit deadpanned, tapping the corner of his mouth pointedly where Yuuri had done so earlier.

“Probably an accident. I might have shifted or he miscalculated the distance.”

“Okay, then how do you explain away your dates?” Phichit folded his arms, tapping his foot impatiently.

“They’re _not_ dates” Yuuri maintained stubbornly. “I’m just showing him around since he’s new to the area.”

“He pays for _dinner_ ,” Phichit stressed. That was actually something Yuuri was worried about. Viktor always said that the times he cooked for them more than made up for it, but how could _Yuuri’s_ cooking compare to some fancy restaurant’s? “He brought you flowers that one time. He’s been here for months and _doesn’t need you to show him around anymore._ If he ever did.”

He avoided his best friend’s piercing gaze, kneading the dough for the baguettes with a tad more force than was strictly necessary.

“Don’t try to dodge this by baking. The problem isn’t going to melt away like soufflé in your mouth. Which, by the way, table 5 requested two orders of.”

“Phichit! You should have said so earlier! They must have been waiting quite a while already!” Yuuri hurried to get the prepped batter into the oven, fiddling with the knobs until he was satisfied.

“It’s just Mr and Mrs Ford, they won’t mind.” The elderly couple were regular customers and usually took their time to savour their tea anyway.

“Phichit,” Yuuri scolded, “get back to your counter. You’re a barista, go be a fishwife in your own time.”

Pouting, the Thai man left him alone in the kitchen. But not before calling over his shoulder, “I’ll remember all this for my best man speech!”

He stoically disregarded the parting shot, knowing by now not to rise to the bait. Phichit was being ridiculous. He just didn’t know how naturally touchy-feely Viktor was. It wasn’t like a man like him could be interested in plain old _Yuuri._

It was this thought that he rode on as he went home. What he kept in mind when Viktor invited himself over for dinner. What he chanted to himself as Viktor held his hand the whole time they were walking through the nearby park on a moonlit night during their next outing.

~~~

Yuuri stared at the packet of chocolate cookies being presented to him. He pinched himself subtly, flinching when the pain registered. Okay, so not a dream.

Viktor giving him chocolate cookies on 14 February, a.k.a. Valentines’ Day, was happening. Like right now. In real life.

His many conversations with Phichit suddenly surfaced in his mind. Maybe Viktor really did feel something for him? Improbable as that may be. Was there a chance?

“-so what do you think?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

Viktor smiled hopefully. “I was asking, so what do you think?” He thrust the cookies closer to him, urging him to take them.

All his hopes and dreams plummeted from where they had been cautiously taking off. He tried to keep his expression from doing the same. Of course. _Of course._ Viktor wanted him to try out how the cookies tasted. What else could it be? He probably knew Yuuri was a baker, after all. He just wanted a professional opinion.

_Stupid Yuuri. See, this is what you get for hoping._

He was proud to say that his hand didn’t tremble he went to pick up one of the cookies to try. Then he was equally proud to say he hadn’t spit the thing out immediately. He forced himself to chew and swallow without tearing up.

Not from heartbreak, as one might have guessed, but from the sheer horror of that hell in a pellet Viktor called food.

“…that was not very good.” Was the best even Yuuri could say about that, that _thing_. Even as Viktor’s face fell, Yuuri steeled himself to give his honest feedback. If professional baker was what Viktor wanted, then Yuuri would do his best. “You used salt instead of sugar. The outside was burnt but the inside was undercooked. The batter wasn’t mixed properly, I could feel the chunks of flour that weren’t stirred in.” He tried to list everything that had gone wrong in the, the, he couldn’t even bring himself to call it a cookie. But to be honest, it was hard to because it just seemed like _everything_ had gone wrong.

“Y-Yuuri…” Viktor said helplessly. His devastated expression made him want to take back everything he had said, but he stayed strong.

He couldn’t’ help but attempt to boost his spirits though. “Here, I’ll give you a recipe to follow, alright?” He quickly jotted down the simplest chocolate cookie recipe he could think of on a piece of paper and handed it to his neighbour. “Better luck next time!” he tried to cheer encouragingly.

“Next time?” Viktor repeated. At those words, his distraught face visibly changed into a hopeful and determined one. “Yes, next time! I won’t give up, Yuuri! Not until I give you the best chocolate cookies you’ve ever tasted!”

Huh, it looked like Yuuri was better at motivation that he thought. He didn’t really understand why Viktor was so pumped up, and Yuuri didn’t really need him to give him any cookies, perfect or otherwise. At any rate, he was just relieved that Viktor hadn’t remained upset.

~~~

The next week saw a few more baking attempts by Viktor. They were getting better, sort of. The thing was, the only reason Yuuri could say they were better was because he had seen their predecessor. The Hell Pellet. On their own, though, they were still pretty cringe-worthy.

The second batch was still full of salt. Yuuri shuddered when his tastebuds touched the cookie. After forcing himself to chew it enough such that swallowing would not kill him, he smiled serenely and said, “You should label your salt and sugar containers with large glittery felt marker. If you don’t, I will get someone to break into your house and do it in your blood. Remember, I know where you live.” Viktor mouth fell open at his calm words, eyes dilating. He then turned tail and ran back home to do just that.

Predictably, Viktor finally managed to differentiate sugar and salt by the third, but the cookies were burnt horribly. Yuuri actually heard the fire alarm ring and Makkachin’s frantic barking before Viktor brought that batch over. They were still smoking when they arrived. Needless to say, Yuuri sent him back home to settle possible fire in his kitchen and dumped the black mess in the bin. Even he had a limit to what he would do for the man. And eating coal was way past that.

The fourth time, Viktor overcooked the _inside_ and undercooked the _outside_. Yuuri didn’t know how that had happened. It seemed his neighbour could confound even the laws of physics. Yuuri still pondered the question sometimes, late at night in bed when he couldn’t sleep. Had Viktor drawn a ritual circle and summoned cursed baking demons? Well, whatever it was, Yuuri had the feeling he was better off Not Knowing.

Trying his latest attempt at the chocolate cookie, Yuuri pursed his lips and finally asked, “Do you want me to help you next time?” It was almost painful to see the way Viktor wilted under his critique, not to mention the brown lumps handed to him every other day. He had actually turned green the other day when Phichit offered him a chocolate cookie. His best friend had almost sent him home for the day.

“No!” Viktor cried, pouting. “I will show you that I can make these cookies on my own! It won’t count otherwise!” _Wait, what?_ “So what went wrong this time?” He was actually holding up a notepad and pen, ready to write down what Yuuri said. Well, if anything could be said about this, it was that Viktor was persistent.

~~~

“I just don’t understand it,” Yuuri sighed in frustration. “Why is he trying to bake chocolate cookies? If he wanted some I’d be glad to make them for him.”

Phichit leered at him. “Oh, I bet you _would_ jump at the chance to give him some sugar.” He waggled his brows.

Yuuri flushed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Whatever you say, hon.” Phichit waved his hand airily. “What _I_ don’t understand is how bad he is at this. If what you say is to be believed, this is his fifth try and he _still_ hasn’t got it right.”

“Don’t forget the Hell Pellet,” Yuuri muttered, wincing at the memory of it.

“Ah, yes. If even you say it’s that bad, then it must have been the worst cookie on the planet.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to defend Viktor but closed it again at Phichit’s raised brow. Unfortunately, his friend was right. “I couldn’t even call it a cookie in my mind,” he admitted lowly, looking around furtively as if Viktor was going to jump out from behind the crate of strawberries to give him his kicked puppy face.

“Well, at least this proves what I’ve been saying all along,” Phichit said smugly.

“What do you mean?”

“He obviously likes you!”

“Yeah, Phichit,” Yuuri drawled sarcastically, “that’s why he’s fed me poison five times already. No, that just proves how much _I_ like him, since I keep eating it anyway.” He stilled once the words left his mouth, eyes widening in horror. Like some freaky circus mirror, Phichit’s smile grew the more dismayed Yuuri looked.

“I DIDN’T MEAN-”

“So you like-like him! More than that, you _luuuuurve_ him! Viktor and Yuuri, sitting in a tree~”

“Stop that! I j-just admire him, okay?”

“Sure you do! You admire his silky silver locks, azure blue eyes and tight hot ass!”

“I never said he had a tight hot ass!” Yuuri screamed. Several customers turned towards the open kitchen door to stare judgementally at him. Blood rushed to his face at the attention and he slammed the door shut.

“Ahh, but you didn’t deny the hair and eyes,” Phichit singsonged.

Yuuri stuffed a cookie in his face.

~~~

Two weeks and 9 batches of cookies later, Yuuri was glad to admit that Viktor was actually improving. Hopefully, when he actually got it right, he would stop plying him with them. Yuuri liked chocolate cookies as much as the next guy, but several times a week was a bit much. Plus, he didn’t think he stand another day of Phichit humming the wedding march when he saw him grimace at a cookie. The customers were starting to ask questions.

The cookies handed to him this time actually looked pretty good. Under Viktor’s eager prompting, Yuuri popped one of them into his mouth. Gone were the times that he had to restrain his urge to gag. At least now he could savour the balance of flavours in the cookie.

He hummed thoughtfully and swallowed, chasing it down with a swig of water. (He had learnt to have a mug at hand when Viktor came knocking.)

Viktor leaned forward in anticipation, practically bouncing in his seat. “How was it this time, Yuuri? Did I finally get it right?”

He smiled. “Almost there. Just, did you use salted or unsalted butter?”

The older man tilted his head, looking like Makkachin when he did so. Yuuri held in his coo of delight at the gesture. How did a 27-year-old man look so freaking adorable?

“I don’t know. Is there a difference?”

And then he went and said things like that that made Yuuri wonder if he was actually a 6-year-old in a man-suit. A beautiful man-suit. He smacked himself.

“Yuuri?!”

Shaking his head, Yuuri ignored Viktor’s expression of concern and said, “Yeah, if you used salted butter, then that would explain why this tastes just the slightest bit too salty. If you don’t have unsalted butter, then you should halve the amount of salt you use from the recipe I gave you.”

Viktor nodded quickly. “Oh, that makes sense!”

“Yeah, I think one more try and your cookies will be perfect.”

Eyes widening, the blonde (silverette?) clapped his hands joyously. “Really, Yuuri? That’s great! Just in time!”

_Just in time for what?_

Before Yuuri could voice his question however, the other man had given him a quick hug then skipped back home. He was left staring at empty air, scratching his head at the whirlwind that was Viktor Nikiforov.

~~~

To Yuuri’s surprise, Viktor didn’t approach him with his final perfect batch of cookies in the following days. His waistline thanked him, but if he was being completely honest with himself, he kind of missed when the man would knock at his door at weird hours of the night to taste-test his latest creation. For all that he had whined about the whole thing to Phichit, Yuuri had enjoyed that time spent with Viktor.

That was not to say that he didn’t see the Russian anymore. They still had dinner together and had even gone to a Mexican restaurant the other day. (Yuuri had tried to pay for it, but Viktor beat him to it.) There was just something…off about the way Viktor had been behaving. He just seemed more distracted, like he had something on his mind.

Yuuri tried to tell himself it was nothing. Viktor had a life outside of him. He just couldn’t help thinking that Viktor had finally gotten tired of him. It was perfectly understandable. Yuuri hadn’t expected him to last so long anyway.

Just because he had expected this to happen didn’t change the fact that it hurt, though.

~~~

It was the morning of March 14. Yuuri had taken to counting the days until Viktor decided to end things. He wanted to treasure every extra day he got. It had gotten to the point where he had it on his mind constantly.

“Order for table 3,” Yuuri murmured, setting it on the counter for Phichit to pick up. The barista swiped the dish up to quickly deliver it to the customer. He stayed near the little window connecting the shopfront to the kitchen. He liked to watch his customers’ reactions when he had the time. It let him gauge how well-received the food was and helped him determine whether it should stay on the menu or be tweaked.

He frowned when the lady’s eyes widened in surprise after her first bite and looked closer at the meringue. He watched anxiously as she flagged Phichit over and they spoke quietly. His friend had an apologetic look while the customer shook her head and smiled reassuringly. Phichit hurried back to him after that conversation.

“What happened?” Yuuri asked worriedly, smiling stiffly when the young woman nodded at him warmly.

“Just a mix up. You served up lemon meringue instead of the cocoa meringue she ordered.” The dark-skinned man held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “Don’t worry! She loved the lemon too, so it’s alright.”

“What? I can’t believe I made a mistake like that!” He looked over at his order queue again. Sure enough, in Phichit’s clear writing, _table 3, cocoa meringue x 1_ , was printed on the slip. “Sorry, please waive the price for it. I’ll pay,” he said, frustrated.

“You don’t have to worry about it, Yuuri. But, sure, if it makes you feel better. Anyway, the customer is fine. I bet she’s even going to be a return.”

“That’s not the point, Phichit! I haven’t gotten an order wrong since the first few months we opened the café!” Yuuri wrung his hands, huffing in annoyance. He needed to get his heads out of the clouds! All this worrying about things with Viktor was messing with his work.

Sighing, Phichit patted his shoulder. “Still that thing with Viktor? I’m telling you, Yuuri, he’s not just gonna drop you like a hot potato. You’re working yourself into a frenzy for nothing.”

Yuuri looked away, refusing to answer.

“Look, Yuuri-”

“Excuse me, I’d like to order?”

Yuuri took the chance to escape back into the kitchen as Phichit attended to the customer. The rest of the day went by quickly while he forcefully shoved all thought about how Viktor was going to cut ties away. Thankfully, he made no more mistakes. On the other hand, this also meant he ended up baking much more than he needed to. Baking had always been his way of dealing with stress. Especially difficult recipes so he needed to focus entirely on them.

He eventually had to bring boxes of macaroons and mille-feuilles back home, even with Phichit taking half of it. Looked like his meals for the next few days were settled. He would also have to fit in more time at the dance studio to work off all these extra calories.

Maybe he could give some to Viktor. They were still friends at the moment, even if that might not be true for long.

Well, speak of the devil. Viktor was standing in front of his door, dressed impeccably in a purple dress shirt and black slacks. He looked like he was on his way to a date. A sharp pang hit Yuuri at the thought.

Viktor brightened when he caught sight of him, smiling his heart-smile. Why did the man have to look so damned _ecstatic_ when he saw him?

“Yuuri!” And the way he cradled his name in his mouth. Like it was something _precious_.

It was giving Yuuri all the wrong ideas.

“Hey Viktor.” He smiled weakly at the other man, opening the door to let them both in. They both settled on his couch.

“How are you today? You look a little off. Was your work today tiring?” Then the man leaned his forehead against his own, almost giving him a heart attack. “You don’t feel feverish.”

Yuuri froze in place. “I-I’m fine.” His eyes honed in on the pink lips so close. Too close. If he lifted himself just the slightest bit…

“That’s good. Don’t want you falling sick. You should take better care of yourself!”

He laughed nervously and backed away. “Yeah, yeah, I will.” Viktor frowned in something like disappointment, but that was impossible.

“Anyway, Yuuri, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Viktor had a completely serious expression on his face and his voice held no traces of joking.

His heart fell to his feet. This was it. This was the moment Viktor told him he never wanted to talk to him ever again. Yuuri hadn’t even gotten the chance to give him the macaroons.

“W-what is it?”

“Yuuri.” Viktor took one of his hands in his. “I know this took many tries, but as I promised, I never gave up. Here.” He handed Yuuri a cute little packet wrapped in clear cellophane paper dotted with little red hearts.

Baffled, Yuuri took it and opened it. Inside were the most perfect chocolate cookies he had seen. A nice even shade of brown, with little chunks of white chocolate. They were even all mostly round and of even size. Yuuri couldn’t have made them better himself. He allowed himself a moment of pride; Viktor had really come a long way since his Hell Pellets.

“Well, go on! Try one!” Viktor urged. He leaned forward like an excited puppy, all eager anticipation.

He didn’t really know what was happening, but he popped one cookie into his mouth anyway. It crumbled easily in his mouth, bringing a burst of sugary sweetness. He chewed slowly, savouring the flavour, before swallowing.

After a brief period of silence, it seemed Viktor couldn’t take it anymore. “So, Yuuri? Don’t just sit there! Tell me how it was!”

Odd, Yuuri was feeling strangely emotional. “It was perfect. _You’re_ perfect.” He didn’t know how those last words had gotten out, but he knew them to be true. “You don’t need my help anymore,” he murmured sadly.

“Yes!” Viktor threw his hands wide, beaming widely. “Now you can finally tell me your answer!”

That sentence confused him. “What do you mean? Answer to what?” Sometimes Viktor went off on tangents on his own which Yuuri had trouble following.

The man laughed indulgently. “My love confession, silly!”

Yuuri shot to his feet. “ _Love confession_?! What love confession? When?”

“How cruel, Yuuri!” Viktor put a hand on his heart, pouting. “Don’t tell me you forgot my confession on Valentine’s Day already!”

Feeling faint, he had to sit down again. “You didn’t confess. You gave me cookies and asked me to critique them!”

“What?” Viktor was beginning to look confused too. “I clearly said, ‘I like you, please go on a date with me.’ You were staring pretty hard at the cookies.”

Yuuri smacked his forehead against his palm. That must have been the time when he was freaking out about getting a gift on Valentine’s Day. “I-I was thinking about stuff. I didn’t hear you, sorry. Why didn’t you say anything after that then? All those other times you gave me cookies?”

“Well, isn’t it some Japanese tradition or something?” At Yuuri’s perplexed face, he elaborated. “You started criticising all the ways I baked the cookie wrong, so I thought I had to give you a perfect one before you could respond to my confession. It’s lucky I was able to get it right before White Day and give it to you!”

With a start, Yuuri realised that, yes, today was White Day. Having been living outside of Japan for so long, he hadn’t thought about that holiday in a long time. It wasn’t like he got any gifts on Valentine’s Day for him to reciprocate anyway.

“I thought you wanted me to try out your baking attempt and tell you how it went! That’s why I listed all the things you needed to change in your cookie! You thought this was all some Japanese _courtship ritual_?” Unbelievable. They had both been ridiculous.

“Well, yes? You mean it wasn’t?” At Yuuri’s emphatic head-shake, he shrugged. “Well, could you still answer me then?” He grabbed both his hands and looked at him from under his lashes. “Would you be my boyfriend?”

Yuuri blinked, then blinked again. Yup, he was seeing clearly. Viktor Nikiforov was mere centimetres from him, looking at him intensely with hooded eyes and asking Yuuri to be his boyfriend. “V-viktor. Why me? I’m just, well, I’m just _me_. You could have anyone!”

“Oh _zvezda moya_ , it’s precisely because you’re _you_ that I adore you! You’re shy but strong, kind and sincere. And oh so beautiful. Don’t give me that look, you _are_ beautiful. Your warm brown eyes are the sweetest chocolate, your rosy apple cheeks so endearing. Don’t even get me started on your amazing body, oh, those thighs could kill a man and your ass-”

Mortified, Yuuri clamped a hand over Viktor’s mouth. “Okay I get it! How can you even just say things like that?” He yelped when he felt a tongue – _Viktor’s_ tongue – lick his palm and snatched his hand back.

“Because it’s all true!” Viktor lilted. “So come on! I’m beginning to get the feeling you’re avoiding the question!”

“I would love to date you Viktor, of course I would!” Yuuri exclaimed, before his face fell. He looked down, and clenched his hands. “But are you really okay with someone like me?”

“Look at me, Yuuri,” Viktor said lowly. A hand reached out to tip his chin upwards. Yuuri’s gaze locked onto intense blue eyes. He didn’t think he could look away even if he tried now. “I don’t want anyone else. All I want is you.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened as heat rose to his cheeks. Viktor’s face was close now, _very_ close. His lips were a mere centimetre from his, so near that all Yuuri could see was Viktor. “Yuuri,” the silver-haired man murmured, “be my boyfriend?” And what could he do but nod and say ‘yes’?

If Yuuri had thought Viktor was beautiful before, it was nothing on how he looked now, with his lapis lazuli eyes glittering like stars, cheeks tinged joyously and his smile blindingly bright. Then Viktor moved impossibly _closer_ , consuming Yuuri’s vision with a sea of blue.

When lips brushed his, Yuuri’s lids fell shut and he didn’t see anything at all.

~~~

Omake:

“So, Viktor,” Yuuri started, “what _is_ it that you do for a living? You know now that I’m a baker.” They were seated at Phichuuri Paradise, the café he co-owned with Phichit. Viktor had somehow found his way here, looking for something to eat. A few slices of pie and cake later, Phichit had finally decided to inform Yuuri of the silver-haired Russian customer. It had been a surprise to Yuuri, seeing as he hadn’t actually told Viktor about where he worked.

Viktor, who had still been pouting over the fact that he had been trying to woo an actual _professional baker_ with his pathetic attempts at cookies, suddenly perked up and smiled. “I’m a flogger!”

Yuuri almost spat out the green tea in his mouth. (Somewhere behind him, Phichit dropped a can of cocoa powder.) Instead, he forced himself to swallow and not choke. His boyfriend (and that was still kind of unbelievable) looked at him in concern. “Did you just say you were a,” Yuuri looked around to make sure nobody was looking at them, “ _flogger_?” The sudden image of a leather-clad Viktor holding a long whip had him coughing again. He studiously ignored the weird tingling feeling in his belly at the thought.

“Yeah!” the man said happily. “You know, like a food blogger. I write reviews about restaurants I go to. In fact, I was actually here to review the place. I don’t usually critique desserts, but this place was recommended to me by lots of my viewers! I didn’t know you owned the place! No wonder I loved the food so much!” he cooed.

Resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands, he calmly explained to his clueless boyfriend why he should _never_ call himself a flogger ever again. And no, it was _not_ the same as how ‘video blogger’ could be shortened to ‘vlogger’.

“Oh, Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “I didn’t know you were into things like that! Don’t worry! I will do my best to learn for you!”

Yuuri waved his hands wildly. “Wait, no! That’s not what I meant! You don’t have to learn anything! Let’s talk about your work! Tell me more please!” He widened his eyes and looked pleadingly for Viktor to get the hint.

For once, the heavens looked favourably on him, and Viktor spoke no more of mortifying sexual practices. (Until a year later on their anniversary, when Yuuri had all but forgotten the conversation and Viktor proudly showed him his new acquisition.)

**Author's Note:**

> Phichuuri Paradise was definitely a name Phichit suggested. Initially, Phichit wanted the cafe to be a hamster cafe, but Yuuri rejected the idea. Guilty about disappointing his best friend, he acquiesced when Phichit decided on such a ridiculous name for their cafe. (It was actually Phichit's aim all along, though he wouldn't have minded if Yuuri had somehow allowed the hamster cafe idea.)
> 
> Come check me out on [tumblr](https://lunarlooroo.tumblr.com)!


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